


Chamomile

by Poppyfox



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:01:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poppyfox/pseuds/Poppyfox
Summary: Crowley hasn't been allowing himself to feel for a long time, finally he breaks and who is there to comfort him, but his Angel.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 43





	Chamomile

Crowley is in a mood. A certain kind of mood, where he doesn't feel like doing anything he enjoys. Not even slightly messing with the mortals. He used to do that, to entertain himself, nothing that would actually hurt anyone, obviously.It's just that being an immortal being alone ~~_Well I'm not actually alone_~~ gets tiring. Even if the Angel is there sometimes, it's a temporary high, like a drowning man being able to breathe for a moment.And besides he isn't here now and Crowley can't seem to care about it, or him or anything. The hollowness he feels in his chest is all consuming.

 _I guess I'm depressed._ Strangely he can't seem to bring himself to care about that either.

"Ey, sweetheart ,you look troubled, would you like for me to bring up your spirits? " _Oh._ He looks around. _I've walked to that part of town._ Not that Crowley had anything against sex workers, he thought they were just women exercising their body autonomy, and who was he to tell them that they couldn't do that? As long as everything was consensual and legal he had no problem with it whatsoever. Especially when he knows sex work has been a job literally from the beginning of the civilization. It's how women survived those horrid times, back then there wasn't much choice he knows, but now look at them, they say men are the stronger sex, but look how they bow to women, they are undefeated, even after everything their gender had to survive and still does, Crowley knows they will emerge victorious.

He looks at the woman in question. She is beautiful, hooded, blue eyes, long blond hair _not as light as his_ big luscious lips _completely not like his_ and what he guesses a gorgeous body. Too bad he isn't interested.

"No thank you, regretfully I just came out to clear my head"

"Maybe next time sweetheart" Maybe he wants to say in response, but he already sees her walking to some other gentleman and not caring what he says. Crowley smirks, resilient.

And then he realizes it's the first conversation he had in months, and the first horrid feeling appears . _Frankly I'd rather feel nothing than feel this_. Sadness, it hits him sharp, all at once, ripping apart his non existent soul and making his eyes water, he drops to his knees and silently sobs.

"Crowley?" _Oh fuck_ , Crowley doesn't dare, doesn't want to look up but he knows whose voice this is, the soft gentle, pitying tone of just one word, _how can he fit it all into just one word?_ Suddenly, he feels a gentle arm on his back and he nearly jumps back at the contact. Not that he doesn't want to Aziraphale to touch him, well he doesn't want him to do that now, or for him to even be here honestly, the intense sadness has taken a backseat and all he feels is shame. Shame for being so weak, for letting the Angel see him like this.

"Do you want to get up and come with me?" The demon finally opens his eyes and stands up , he nods for an answer, because he's dreadfully afraid of his voice cracking and he has embarrassed himself plenty tonight. Aziraphale still touching Crowley's back teleports them to the bookshop, more specifically his flat.

" I'll make some tea for us, what kind would you like?"

" Chamomile" Is all Crowley mutters back. One word, _yey progress_. While Aziraphale wonders about in the kitchen, the demons mind starts working. _How do I get out of this ,what do I say? Hey, Angel, I just came out of a depressive episode and you saw me crumple to the ground? How are you?_ It all seems ridiculous in his mind and too vulnerable. _I'll just say it was some sort of complicated plan to draw the mortals in, yeah, **stupid**._ Footsteps are no longer heard in the kitchen and he hears Aziraphale returning to the living room. _I should just run and hide for a hundred years._ But he knows he can't do that, them not being together is what brought in the depression relapse anyway. _It's better to not feel anything than to feel the agony of not being able o see him._

"Here's your tea" He places the chamomile tea in front of Crowley while holding his cup. And it's awkward.

"Crowley- Aziraphale stats to say before he gets cut off.

"There's nothing to say Angel, I had quite a few embarrassing moments tonight and I'd like to keep my dignity or what's left of it" He finishes in a snarl. And his eyes look to the side, he can't handle pity not ever, specially not from him.

"Crowley -"The Angel starts in a much more stern voice and continues before the demon cuts him off again. "You haven't embarrassed yourself, definitely not in front of me. I know what it was, _Crowley_. "At that the demon almost roles his eyes." You cut off yourself from feeling for too long and after you let yourself feel the emotions rushed back to you, it happens to humans with some conditions, the thing is that you're superior to them, your emotions are heightened, everything they feel we feel ten times more, so there is no surprise the emotions overcame you." There's silence again, Crowley finally looks at Aziraphale in the eyes his _perfect_ blue eyes, like the sky on the perfect summer day.When it's just hot enough, but not too hot that you get a heat stroke. _Well, he at-least understands._ That lessens his shame quite a bit actually.

"Now, drink your tea , I'd hate to waste it." And he does, taking a sip of it. And the conversation resumes, not about his feelings which he is much grateful for, but about what they've been up to, what Michael say to Aziraphale last time they met, what books he read and Crowley listens to his Angel talk and talk about his latest fascination and he can forget his sadness, fear and shame for the rest of the night.They don't finish talking until the morning light comes creeping in through the windows and Crowley feels simply rejuvenated. He leaves after they say their goodbye's and agree to meet soon again. To Crowley's relief the Angel doesn't mention what happened on their second meeting or ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be one of those "love confessions" but when I tarted writing it was way too depressing, so this work came out to be what it wanted to be. I'm not a very good writer, but I want to learn and I would like to hear any prompts from you and I would gladly write them, if anyone's interested ;)


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